


i'm there for you

by houseofbees



Category: Spider-Man (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofbees/pseuds/houseofbees
Summary: Peter gets shot and immediately goes to Miles for help.
Relationships: Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Miles Morales/Peter Parker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	i'm there for you

**Author's Note:**

> this could be read as platonic (i think) so if u dont vibe with parkorales you can still get some Good Friendship Vibes
> 
> peter and miles are so underrated,, god i love them. also this is kinda messy cause its my first time writing parkorales and i didnt draft or edit it lol  
> warning for descriptions of blood and mentions of gunshot wounds

In the storming rain, soaking wet and bleeding to death--though he was already half dead, the name on Peter's lips was Miles Morales. He shivered and tears stung at the back of his eyes, and his hand swept his hair out of his face as he tumbled into Miles' yard. Peter swore, jumping away from the rabbit hole he'd accidentally landed in.

Standing there, panting, he slouched in on himself, staring up at Miles' window. His light was on, Miles himself holding his headphones as he performed some kind of dance. Peter looked down, stifling a laugh.

Thunder crackled just behind him and the smell freshly-mowed grass combined with rain filled the air and Peter looked down at himself; bleeding and shaking. His blood dripping onto the lawn before being washed away by the rain. If he stayed here, just a little longer, maybe he wouldn't have to burden Miles with this. Maybe--

The sound of a sliding window interrupted him.

"Peter?" Miles asked. Peter looked up, cracking a forced grin.

"Hey, bro." He cringed at his rough voice. "How's it going?"

"Holy-- Okay, stay there, Peter. I'll be down in a sec." Miles disappeared back into his room and Peter was left to shuffle awkwardly. Miles' parents really did a good job on the lawn. Aunt May would go nuts over it.

Peter gnawed on his lip, watching a small cut on his hand heal itself. Slowly, the rest were following suit, though the bullet holes in his stomach probably would take days to heal. He hoped not; hospital bills were a pain in the ass.

Before Peter could dwell on it any further, a door opened and Miles stepped out. In the cool light of the storm, he looked so fragile. So young. They were _both_ so young. Peter clutched his wound a bit tighter.

Miles stumbled towards him, frowning.

"Pete, what happened?"

Peter clicked his tongue. "Robbery went wrong. Go figure. Always thought I'd die from someone like Doc Ock, or the Scorpion, maybe." He chuckled. Miles didn't laugh.

Instead, he put his hand on Peter's shoulders and guided him into his house. Peter shivered at the burst of warm air before screeching to a halt.

"Your parents--?"

"Are at work." Miles furrowed his brows. "Uh, do you know what time it is?"  
  
Peter opened and closed his mouth. "Four... five AM?"

"It's noon."

"Oh." Peter made a vague gesture even he didn't understand. "Didn't even realize."

Miles set him down on the couch. The springs squeaked under his weight and Peter patted the cushion curiously. Its ragged surface stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the living room, which was polished and looked pretty new. The couch, on the other hand, looked about fifty years old, give or take.

"We found it at a garage sale," Miles explained. "When we moved here from Puerto Rico."

"Ah." Peter settled against the cushions, sighing. "It's kind of comfy, gotta be honest."

A smile twitched on Miles lips as he set out a first-aid kit. Peter winced as he set down a bottle of alcohol, hands staying firmly on his wound.

Gently, Miles sat down next to him and gave him a hesitant look, hands hovering over his costume. Peter blinked. _Oh, right._ He took off the top in one fell swoop, letting it fall onto the floor. Miles looked away.

"You... you didn't have to do this, you know. I could've handled a robbery." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, but just because you _can_ doesn't mean you _should._ " Peter reached out for Miles before exhaustion overtook him and his arm fell limply by his side. "And, better me than you," he whispered.

"Don't."

Miles peeled Peter's arm off his gunshot wound and carefully pressed an alcohol-soaked rag. Peter hissed, stiffening. His hands clenched and his teeth ground together. Miles recoiled, holding up his hands.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just... I'll skip that part--"

"No," Peter said. "It's fine. I'm fine. Keep going."

Miles slowly pressed the rag back to Peter's wound. He flinched and a whimper slipped past his lips, but as Miles went on, Peter relaxed more and more. It was almost magic, how safe he felt under his care. Peter licked his lips.

For a moment, Miles paused. He slowly pulled away, settling into a huddled slouch. Peter would've killed someone for Miles right then. The way he looked so small, the rest of the world didn't matter. Peter would take a million bullets for him.

"Peter?" Miles asked.

"Yeah?"

Tears glossed over Miles' eyes and he visibly swallowed.

"Please don't get injured like this again."

"I-- Oh, god, I won't." Peter laughed. "I've learned my lesson. Doctor's orders, right?"

"I'm not a doctor," Miles said, wiping his eyes.

"Your mom is, right?"

"Nurse, but yeah... I doubt she'd want you to get hurt, either."

Peter hummed in agreement. "Hah, yeah. Remember when she had to treat me for chemical burns and made me wait for my aunt to pick me up?"

"She's a worrier." Miles leaned in, resting his chin in his palm. "I have to check in with her, like, every thirty minutes every time I go somewhere. Other than school, obviously."

"Sounds tedious."

"Eh, not really. I'm glad I have someone like her looking out for me."

"I look out for you."

"You sure?" Miles bumped him on the shoulder. "It seems like all I do is worry about you."  
  
Peter's face fell. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize." Miles cleared his throat. "I guess I just get it from my mother."

"Still..."

Peter shuffled. Carefully, slowly, he sat up. The couch springs dug into his legs and his hands shot to his side, but he managed to prop himself up against his arm. Miles opened his mouth, hands landing firmly on Peter's shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"I..." Peter blanked.

He lurched forward, engulfing Miles in a hug. Unfortunately, the momentum threw them both tumbling back. Miles yelped, wrapping his arms tightly around Peter as he landed against the carpet. Peter bit back a cry as tears stung in his eyes. Both his hands rushed to his side as his breathing caught.

As they lay there on the floor, Miles' grip eventually loosened. Peter craned his neck, nose pressing into Miles' jaw.

"Sorry. But thanks, for being a good pillow."

"You suck. You suck so much."

"Yeah," Peter said. "But you love me."  
  
"Unfortunately."

Miles sat both of them up, keeping his hands on Peter's shoulders. He groaned, poking Peter in the gut.

"Dumbass. You're bleeding again."

Peter huffed, grinning. "Doesn't matter. I probably would've opened the wound anyway, just at a worse time."

Miles grabbed a roll of gauze.

"Thanks, though," Peter said. "For helping me."

Miles looked up at him with something in his eyes Peter couldn't quite place.

"Of course. I'll always be here for you, Pete."


End file.
